


The Picture of Thomas Shelby

by 100dabbo



Series: Absent Togetherness [4]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Cigarettes, Flirting, Idiots in Love, Lingerie, Love Letters, M/M, Photographs, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: Just under a week after Alfie had promised, a photographer shows up to capture Tommy's smile.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Absent Togetherness [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726294
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	The Picture of Thomas Shelby

Five nights had passed between Alfie’s departure and Tommy opening the door of the betting shop to a complete stranger. He was a man, an old man, with a flat brimmed hat much like the type Alfie would wear, and in his hand, he held a small piece of paper, presumably a scrawl of the address he had just arrived at. A large bag was held in the other hand, looking quite heavy.

“I’m looking for someone who goes by…” He looked at the paper, squinting as he tried to make out what had been written for him, “’Treacle’, does it say?”

Tommy’s eyes widened, then he cracked a smile, immediately reaching for the cigarettes and lighter in his pocket.

“No…” He chuckled in disbelief, lighting the cigarette as he stared back at the man, now looking worried that he’d gotten the incorrect house, since to him, they all looked identical on that vast terrace. “You must be the photographer Mr Solomons has sent then?” He asked, extending his hand out for the man to shake. 

He tucked the paper into his coat pocket and smiled, extending his hand to shake Tommy’s, nodding to confirm. Tommy welcomed him in straight away, walking him through to the bar area just as he had done with Alfie a week ago.

As soon as he had found the table, the photographer set down his bag, taking out his camera and its stand.

“Are we taking the photograph here… um…”

“Mr Shelby,” Tommy said, not about to let anyone else him call him ‘Treacle’, “And yeah, I’ll just change, and you can set up your kit here, alright?” And he sucked on his cigarette as the man began to unpack the rest of his things, nodding for Tommy to walk to his room and dig out his best clothes, knowing Alfie’s would want him to be at his most presentable if these photographs were to be his pride and joy.

When he came back down five minutes later, the photographer had set up a chair for him, positioned just in front of the bar.

“Now, Mr Shelby,” He said, shrugging his jacket off and placing his hat on the table behind him, “Are there any requests for these photographs, or do you just need one, simple and plain?”

“I’m glad you asked that,” Tommy replied, finishing off the cigarette and stubbing it into an ashtray, “I need one with glasses and one without, both smiling.” He drew his spectacles out of his inside pocket, placing them onto his face.

“Well, I hope you have something to be smiling about, you’ll be holding it for a while, you know.” The photographer joked, getting Tommy into the frame, crossing his wrists over his knee to give the scene the most candid appearance, not knowing that Tommy had many things to smile about nowadays, those exact things crossing his mind while the photos were being taken.

Not only was it Alfie who crossed his mind, obeying the very simple instruction to think about his “handsome fucking face”, but also what he was going to do once these photographs were done.

He’d send them to him, obviously, but with what medium? A letter would be preferable, giving him a way to send both photographs concealed within an envelope and send with it a nice message. 

Imagining what Alfie’s reaction might be was another thing, if it were to be a surprise, sent to his office in the middle of the day perhaps, he could be caught off guard and receive a pleasant shock on what would otherwise be a very mundane day. It was hard _not_ to smile at that idea.

Then, before he knew it, the first photograph was done, and he was still smiling as he took his glasses off, ready for the next one.

All the grinning that came from him was of the purest joy, nothing false about it, the anticipation of writing the letter building up in his mind with what he was going to write within it. But it was still strange to him, almost, to be doing what he was doing. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was genuinely grinning in front of a stranger with the kind of smile that he displayed in that moment; nothing for flattery, nothing for ulterior motive, but just for being happy. But, he supposed that Alfie just had that effect on him.

Not long after, the second one was done too, and he relaxed in the chair, lighting up a new cigarette and trapping it between his smirking lips,

“So, they’ll be ready soon, eh?”

“They’ll be developed, yes, then I’ll send them back. Would you prefer they go straight to Mr Solomons? I’m guessing he’s the one who wanted them…” The photographer replied as he packed away his equipment, gently handling the film reel to place it back into his bag.

“That's alright, send them back here, and I’ll take care of them,” Tommy assured, taking a drag on his cigarette, “You’ve still got the address there, haven’t you?”

The photographer nodded and extended his hand to be shook once more,

“Of course, thank you, Mr Shelby, they’ll be sent to you as soon as they’re ready.” And he smiled, picking his heavy bag back up.

“Right then, I’ll show you out, sir.”

“No need, I’m sure you’ve got work to do.” Were the photographer’s last words, making his own way out of the betting shop for Tommy to get back to his work. Although what Tommy actually ended up doing when he sat back at his desk was anything but that.

He slipped the glasses back onto his face and reached for his stationary paper, readying his best pen and ink to start the letter. He thought about it considerably before actually starting it off, knowing he wanted it to be formal, should Ollie open it by accident like the idiot he was, but still keeping it tender enough that it was for Alfie and Alfie only. He wouldn’t address him directly, but he’d ensure it was for him, he wouldn’t be explicit, but he wouldn’t be particularly decent either.

He paused with the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke surrounding him, and after another beat, he finally put pen to paper.

At around midday, three days later, the post for Alfie was passed through the distillery and onto Ollie, who in turn was on his way to pass it all to him. He walked down the hallway towards the office while flicking though each one, the senders of each all the regulars, like business associates and family, but then one caught his eye.

He’d sworn he’d seen that handwriting before somewhere in Alfie’s office, the curve of the letters and perfect size consistency was unlike any other writing he’d ever seen, and therefore quite distinct. Then the logo stamped on the bottom of the envelope revealed its source.

_Shelby Company Ltd. Birmingham, England._

He walked into Alfie’s office, placing it at the bottom of the pile, knowing Alfie would want to get through the business stuff before the personal. 

“Your letters, Alfie.” He said as he placed them on the desk, Alfie barely looking up from his work to acknowledge him, and he picked up the outgoing as he left, closing the door on his way out.

Alfie raised an eyebrow as he looked at the stack, peeping over the rims of his glasses. He knew it’d be more of a pain to leave them and have to sort them at a later date than to have the work he wasn’t even enjoying be interrupted. 

So, one by one, he made his way through each of them, cutting the paper across the top with a small pen knife, sorting each one from irrelevant to important, marking them with his pen and putting them into their respective piles. Then he finally reached Tommy’s.

Unlike Ollie, he recognised the penmanship immediately. He smiled.

With careful precision, he sliced the envelope open, peering in to see its contents before pulling them out. A letter and two photographs.

He took the photographs first, beaming as he first gazed upon them, Tommy’s smiling face in both, one iteration with his circular glasses. In his very correct opinion, both were fantastic enough to have plastered on the walls of his house for every guest that would ever come in and out to see. God knew one of them was to be hung in his hallway. 

Eventually, his eyes tore away from them and shifted onto the letter, the neatly pressed paper filled top to bottom with Tommy’s handwriting, perfect as ever. He resettled the glasses perched on his nose and read it with a smile:

_To the man always on my mind,_

_First and foremost, I’m delivering this letter to your office, holding with it the hope that it may catch you off guard and distract you from your work for the better part of five minutes. Put your pen down because I know it’s in your hand._

_Enclosed, you should find two photographs; portraits your ever so kind photographer managed to capture of me smiling, as you had so requested (one with glasses and another without, to your behest). Since you were the one to ask for them, you may do whatever you please with them; whether that’s finding a frame and putting one on your desk, keeping them in your draw beside the whiskey, letting them stay folded inside your wallet, or even placed on your bedside table or the mantle. It doesn’t really matter, so long as you enjoy them._

_I hope you find as much pleasure in looking at them as I had having them taken, following your suggestion of thinking about your… what was it? “Handsome fucking face”?_

_Well, you can pick your pen back up now, I suppose. All that’s left is to make Ollie fetch you a frame (they’re 4 x 6 inches, by the way)._

_Yours, as always,_

_Tommy_

_P.S. I was wearing those lovely undergarments you had purchased for me beneath my suit, so I reckon that’s another thing you could use these photographs for…_

Alfie almost choked on his own laughter reading that last line, prompting Ollie to come in looking frantic and worried. It really was a rarity to see Alfie laughing, especially to see him laughing at work, and even _more_ of a rarity when it wasn’t directed at anyone else.

“What is it, Alfie? What’s wrong?” He asked, his hand lingering on the door handle.

“What’s wrong?!” Alfie chuckled, picking the photographs back up to stare at Tommy’s beautiful face, “What's wrong is that I need two four by six frames and I don’t have any, yeah?”

Still with a face displaying all his confusion, Ollie nodded, peering over at the photographs in the man’s hand, the backs of them dated and labelled with Mr Shelby’s name.

“So you really did send that photographer then?”

“Ollie.” Alfie said, snapping his head up, “Frames. Now.”

Without another second, Ollie left the office, and then Alfie reclined back into his chair, unable to help a smile of his own stretching his lips.

“ _One of the many pleasures on this earth._ ” He said to himself, brushing his thumb across the glossy surface of the photograph.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you like this little follow up to the ending of [One Night in Small Heath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554938/chapters/59295760) :) Comments are appreciated! Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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